Circles
by RottenAmaranthus
Summary: Adam's life has been nothing but a series of circles. Round and round and round. He just wants it to stop spinning because what's the point? He's surrounded by zombies. But then he meets one zombie different from the others. Two halves of a whole collide to create circle, going round and round. And maybe now, he doesn't want it to stop.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Round and Round**

Courting the moon was never easy.

Round and round and round and round. That's all a blade of grass knows. The sky above it and the dirt around it spins and spins, never ceasing, never slowing. All it knows is of a constant cycle of light melting into darkness and darkness into the warm morning and the warm morning into the cool evenings. It knows of hot summer days. It knows of the bitterest of winters. It knows the feeling of spring, the feeling of rebirth. It knows the feeling of death and sleep all at once gripping it to its very core. The blade of grass doesn't know much.

But, it does know of the moon.

There's a mysterious star in the sky. It is bigger and grander than all the others. She peeks her way, quite bashfully, over the horizon and dances up and up into the inky canvas. Her smile casts light down on the blade of grass. The light may not be able to warm it, but still the blade of grass find itself admiring the silver glow through the night and yearning for it when the wrathful sun charges into the morning, chasing away the stars and the blackness.

Sometimes, the moon disappears.

Like the world below her, she spins. Little by little her beautiful smile fades away until she is gone, leaving only an empty space, a vacant hole. But the blade of grass knows that she is there. She's just hiding. Over time, however, she comes back to the blade of grass and all it can do is look at her in awe and wait, knowing that it will be left alone once again.

The blade of grass admires the moon.

Does she even know it exists? She looks down upon the world and must see millions of little blades of grass. This one in particular didn't stand as tall as the others, but at the end of the day that was to its advantage. It often wonders why the moon hides away. Hot, fiery agony grips the blade to its roots at the thought of her never returning. What if one night she never comes back? What if she loses her way and she is lost in the darkness, forever? But the moon still returns after she vanishes, so the blade of grass can rest easy until she hides away again.

Round and round. Round and round. That's all a blade of grass knows. Round and round.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Genesis**

Adam took a small sip from the honey-thick liquid in his wine glass. It cooled his throat as it dribbled down his gullet and into his stomach. Another sip. The tremor in his hands stopped. Another. The spinning world around him stopped. Everything stood in place. The rush of wind in his head ceased. Another. The ticking of the clock in the corner of the room wasn't so loud anymore. He downed the rest of the glass. The fire running through his stilled veins cooled. All was quiet. All was still.

He placed the glass down and ran a tongue along his moistened lips. His head rested on the top of the sofa. He looked to the ceiling. It was such a monotonous color. It was grey. It was bleak.

He turned over to look at his clenched fist. His nails dug into his skin. _Don't do it, don't do this to yourself, don't, don't, it's over, it's all over, she's gone, don't do it, don't…_

His fingers depressed and slowly opened one by one to reveal a silver chain wrapped around his fingers. Hanging from it was a black bead.

The room was black, the light inkling from the half-moon that hung from the sky casted long, livid shadows across the room. The silver light seemed to cast a fairy-like glow and everything seemed brighter. The shade to the room was open only a little. If he could Adam would close it. But he was stuck. He was sinking deeper and deeper into the cushions. If he could disappear into a state of purgatory he could. Maybe he would. He then looked to the stained wine glass in his hand. He placed it down next to him.

The moon's light danced through the room and revealed the livid, red stains rimming the glass.

_Don't look, no, don't, no, no, no, no…_

Adam's attention was drawn back to the bead resting against his pale palm. His other hand rested on the white bead around his throat. It felt heavy. The world around him was grey. It was bleak. He was lost. Misplaced.

The sounds of Detroit's night life were none existent in Adam's little world. His eyes darted to the window. He saw a glimpse of the half-moon. His heart ached. Well, what was left of it ached. The bead in his hand felt heavy. Too heavy. He let his arm drop from the air to rest on his stomach.

He was a half to a whole that will forever remain incomplete. He was lost. Adam closed his eyes and put the black bead around his neck, resting it next to its counterpart. His neck felt weighted.

Finally he pushed himself off of the couch and stood up, walking to the window. He looked out on the desolate street where only one light flickered. _No, no, don't, no…_

Adam couldn't help it. He thought of _her_ as he looked to the moon in the sky. He felt like something was missing. He felt empty. Hollow. Lost. He hated these feelings. He hated how they invited themselves in and forgot to close the door. He hate them.

Adam licked his lips again. He tasted iron. He couldn't help but think of their awakening. _"What choice do we have?"_ she had asked. They had a choice. They could have walked away. They could have found another solution. They could have done _something_ else. But they didn't. Like the serpent the life running through the young, romantic couple's bodies coaxed them both. It tempted them. Just a bite, he had promised himself. Just enough so that he could stop the spinning. Stop the whirring in his ears in his veins in the world around him. Just enough to stop the tremors slowly creeping upon them both.

But one bite was all it took. His eyes had been open.

Before he knew it the girl was laying at his feet. White. Cold. Her mouth frozen in a scream. Where once a fire of compassion and love burned there were only embers slowly fading away until there was nothing but two dots of blackness on her perfect little face. Her lover fell shortly after she. He collapsed on top of her, barring her from the cool air of the night. Protecting her until an angel descends from heaven to take him and his beloved away.

Adam remembered their eyes. He remembered that the woman's, before burning out completely, reflected fear. Then the man's eyes met his. A moment was all it took to process the anger that slowly melted away as the fire in his eyes reflected that of his lovers. Anger and hate.

Adam's eyes lifted to meet those of Eve's. Her sunglasses had fallen off. As she bent down to retrieve them, Adam wiped his mouth on his hand. When he drew it back his gut lurched at what he saw. A stain. Almost like cherries. He remembered eating cherries. A long, long time ago.

His eyes met Eve's again before she veiled them with plastic. He saw forgiveness.

"_Let's go home…"_ she had said with a small, tight smile.

But they never did go home.

Adam closed the shade and walked back to the couch. He picked up an object that he never thought he'd touch again. He raised it to his mouth and closed his eyes. Running in circles. Running round and round. The world never ceased in its spinning. Round and round. He wanted it all to still. To stop. There was no moon in the ceiling above him. It was grey. It was bleak.

His finger rested on the trigger. _One…_

The beads around his throat where too heavy. _Two…_

Round and round. His life has been nothing but a series of cycles. The morning turns to night and the night turns to morning. The spring turns to summer. The autumn to winter. Round and round and round and round again. Never stopping. Never ceasing. Until now. _Three…_

But then, just as he is about to end it all, he heard the sorrowful soliloquy of a violin. The spinning world around him stopped, and was filled with nothing but music.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: A Moth in the Moonlight**

Adam lowered the gun from his mouth and it dropped to the floor.

The silence of the world was ripped, but not roughly. It wasn't jagged. It was a smooth, fine cut. Not sharp. Pleasant. Soothing. Like the blade of a surgeon. Precise. The violin's rise and fall centered the world around Adam who listened with an open ear, and an open heart. The music filled him from head to toe with shivers and tremors, but those of fulfillment, not hunger, and he found himself wanting more.

Soon enough Adam was on the streets of the city donning his sunglasses in an attempt to hide away from the harsh glare of the street lights. He had checked the time before he left. It was almost midnight. He walked the desolate street as he listened to that mournful violin. He needed to find its source, needed to see who coaxed such beautiful sounds from a delicately crafted instrument that could cut through the ear-drum if played with even the slightest infringement.

Adam had to slow his pace down. Running would only divert the sounds echoing around the desolate city. Each pounding footstep would rebound off of a wall and chase away that heavenly melody. He found himself prowling, lake a panther, his ears tuned and open, inviting the music into his soul. Like a raven's eyes that bore through the night, Adam's glimmered with a spark that had died before.

He turned the corner.

The city that he knew backwards and forwards was now like a maze. The music was taunting, mocking now. He couldn't find the source. He closed his eyes. He listened. And what he heard coaxed a smile from his lips. When he closed his eyes, he saw _her_. That made the blood in his stilled veins run cold.

_No, no, no_. He thought. _Don't think of her. Don't think. Don't._

He opened his eyes. He wanted to run from the music now because all of his senses were consumed by _her_. The half-moon in the sky looked lonely, he noticed. There weren't any stars above to keep its company. It was alone, all alone. He couldn't stop thinking of her. He couldn't stop smelling her sweet hair. Seeing that sweet smile. The smile he possessed a moment ago was gone. When he closed his eyes he smelt blood. Fresh blood. He saw her delicate lips dripping with blood. One bite was all it took. Damn temptation. Damn _her_.

But like a moth to flame he was drawn to the music. He was enticed. He was numb, but in a good way. He regained his composure and continued his search for the source. The melodies have changed at this point. Whereas they were low and mournful before they were now rocketing with a livid rhythm, relentlessly tugging at his ears. Asking him to dance. She used to love dancing. He was afraid.

He didn't want to see her. She was gone. This was impossible, but was it really?

No longer did he see a sweet smile. All he saw where blood stained lips. His eyes had been opened. Adam's tongue darted across his own lips. He could have sworn he tasted the ghostly presence of that unique flavor. It was nothing like he tasted before. He wanted more.

_No, no, no._ He didn't want more, no. No. No way. He was content with the frozen stock he had. He had an assortment of various blood types, courtesy of his new supplier. He was content. Yes, he was content.

But he was afraid. He couldn't see past the blood on her lips that smiled with understanding, not an ounce of shame. She should have been shameful. They had a choice. He had a choice. Damn that one bite. Damn it all. His senses were again filled with _her._ The temptress. Damn her. Damn her, damn her, _damn her_. The bitterness in his heart consumed him, and he thought he would drown completely until his whirring thoughts stilled once again. He remembered when Eve asked him to dance. He said yes. He always says yes.

Adam found himself standing in the shadow of a building. The music was loud here. He looked at the clock inside the store. It read one forty-five. His eyes darted to a fountain in the middle of a square. The fountain was empty. No water moistened the concrete. The stone cherub's lips were puckered as if it were spurting water in a playful matter. The ivy wrapped around its legs and its arms, preventing it to fly away if it would so desire too. It was ensnared. It was a pitiful sight to see, and Adam looked away.

What caught his attention now was the figure standing in a single shaft of moonlight. He took a step closer, but he was still engulfed in shadows. Almost like the cherub, he was ensnared.

The figure was that of a slender woman with long limbs. She wore dark jeans, tall black boots, and a grey tee-shirt. The outline of her nose and her jaw cast soft shadows across her face. Warm, honey-like amber eyes glinted in the most beautiful way when the moonlight caught them just right. Her hair was dyed purple and fell past her shoulders in waves. Her eyes would flutter close when the long strokes of her violin and her body moved with the melody, swaying as if she were dancing.

Adam let go of the breath he didn't think he was holding. He noticed a single moth was flying around her in lazy circles. It danced along, fluttering delicately, until it flew up to the sky, disappearing in the darkness.

The violinist's song ended, and the bow was lowered. She opened her eyes and lowered her violin. "Who's there?" She called out.

Adam did nothing and just stood there, frozen in place. Ensnared. Waiting. Watching. The vines around his heart protruded iron thorns that cut deep. He yearned to hear that melody again. It's been so long, too long, since he heard something so pure, so blissful. Before him stood his new prodigy, he was sure of it. His determination filled his body with a fire that he thought had died before. Doused in blood.

_No, no, no. I can't. I won't._ Adam found himself feeling blue all of a sudden. The thorns digging into his heart retreated, but now he felt empty. Forlorn. It would be best if he left. She was nothing more than a zombie, doomed like the rest of them. Forsaken. But, he couldn't pull away.

"Is anyone there? Hello?" The stranger called out for the second time. Her heart was pounding, her limbs were trembling. The night air was cool and it ghosted along her skin causing goose-bumps to erupt. The little moth came back down from the sky and fluttered around her face before making its trek to where Adam was standing. Then it disappeared into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: A Spectator's Salutations**

"I can see you standing there," the stranger called out to Adam. Her voice was soft, gentile. Like the moth it wormed its way into the air and found its place through the darkness. Adam wanted to reply, but he remained silent. He wouldn't, _couldn't_, speak to her. He had to go. But his feet were rooted to the ground. She was just a zombie. A zombie with purple hair.

She didn't say anything more as she packed the violin away. Her amber eyes darted around. He could practically hear the rush of blood coursing through her veins. She shivered as a cool wind snaked past them. It carried the scent of motor oil and garbage. The air was tainted. The air was heavy. The beads around Adam's neck were heavy. It's funny how this stranger's music distracted him from the weight.

With her violin case strapped along her shoulder, the woman walked over to where Adam was standing. Being swift on his feet he had moved silently to the adjacent alley, watching the woman with curious, shade-clad eyes. She inspected the spot where he was standing, but when she found no one she spun on her heel. Shaking her head she turned and began to walk away.

Adam stood there awhile longer, watching her go. He remembered what Eve said forever ago when they encountered that singer. She was talented, but Adam could never bring himself to contact her. Eve had approved of her. At his point Adam didn't want to do anything that the temptress would encourage him to do. _She is no better than a serpent_, he tried to tell himself, but he found that distant ache blooming where his heart should have beaten. The weight around his neck was painful now.

If he hated her, why did he miss her? No. Hate was the wrong word. Words couldn't describe what he felt for his lost love. Adam looked again to the cherub in the fountain. Pitiful.

When he returned to his home the sun was just beginning to dash across the sky, chasing away the hiding stars and burning the sky as if it were nothing but a piece of parchment. The moon would be forced to flee. One day that moon will be gone, and maybe it won't come back. Well, maybe it will but maybe it won't. Every time the moon leaves the sky empty, it's a gamble whether she will return.

Adam looked to the gun resting on the coffee table. He picked it up and put it in a drawer. One more night. That's all he needs. One more night.

But of course all throughout the day he could not get the glint of honey and strands of purple out of his mind. He thought he saw Eve in that stranger. No, he _knew_ he saw Eve in that stranger. And yet, he didn't. It's not that he _knew_ he saw Eve. He was _looking _for Eve in that stranger. He _wanted_ that stranger to be Eve. But she wasn't. And Eve wasn't.

Eve wasn't his Eve anymore. She was a temptress, a serpent. He no longer saw her delicate, rose-petal smile. What he saw was the maw of an animal. Throughout the day he couldn't bring himself to play his music. Come noon Adam didn't have the energy to chase away those hounding him through his door looking to be graced with his presence. He took out his gun and placed it on the coffee table.

As soon as the sun set again he found himself prowling the streets, his ears and his soul open. He came upon the stone fountain and waited until morning. The stranger never appeared.

When he was walking home he resolved to end it all. The stranger was nothing more than another zombie. She disappeared like everything else. Like Eve. But Eve was different. He chased her away. He didn't want to see her anymore. His hand traveled to his throat to finger the black bead.

When he entered his studio, Adam walked over to his gun. He was tired. He was hungry. He hated that feeling of hunger more than ever. The world was spinning again. It never stopped, he couldn't catch his breath. It was too fast and too slow all at once. He needed Eve again to ground him, to stop the world from spinning so that he could _think_. But now Adam would have to settle for a bullet. There was no music this time to stop him. However, something did.

When he reached for the revolver, his hand stopped in midair. What he saw was a brown moth peppered with black stripes. It sat on the gun as if it owned it and almost as though it was waiting for him. It flew off after a moment and fluttered to the darkest corner of the room. Adam sat down on the couch. _Maybe tomorrow…_he thought as he stared at the bleak ceiling.

The next night he found himself standing by the cherub. Adam looked up to the sky. He noticed that the moon had grown fuller and caught himself cherishing its light.

Captivated by the beauty of the moon, Adam was only awoken from the maze in his mind at the sound of footsteps. He hid in the shadows, away from the visitor.

The woman with the purple hair had a sense that she had an audience that evening, but she shook it off and played her music like the night before last.

This went on for the next few nights. Adam would arrive to the fountain promptly at a quarter to midnight and the stranger would show up shortly after and play her music, unaware that she had an admirer and potential teacher.

But, Adam was wrong on one account. She knew he was there. She could always _feel_ it when someone was watching her. It made her skin crawl. She hated the exposure, the feeling of dark, hungry eyes watching her. But at least, she told herself, it was only one pair as opposed to a thousand.

Adam didn't know what he wanted to do. Stay away, forget, or teach this young talent a thing or two like he did with the others. He saw too much of Eve, he saw too little. He didn't know what to think. But at least the world stopped spinning when she played her music. He would listen to that violin forever if he could. Every song was different, unique. Even if he recognized familiar chords and strokes they would be compiled differently or tweaked so that the sound changed. It was very enticing.

It was on the night of the full moon that the zombie finally spoke to him again. She came the usual way, walked across the street without looking for oncoming traffic, and placed her violin case on the edge of the fountain. However, instead of taking the instrument out, she just sat down next to it and crossed her legs Native American style.

"I know you're there," she said in a soft, tepid manner.

_No, no, she's not worth it, she's just a zombie, not worth your time, end it all, stop the spinning, no, no, no, no, don't, she's not Eve she's too much like Eve you want her to be Eve where is Eve why won't she come back no, no, no…_Suddenly, the figure that the woman had been watching stepped out from the shadows like a ghost. Pale moonlight danced off of his porcelain skin.

And all of a sudden, the world stood still.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: A Change in Perspective**

She never liked people. They didn't seem to like her either.

She preferred to play at night where no one could watch her. Often when she slept she saw eyes just watching her, following her every moment. All she wanted was to hide away. If she could she would cocoon herself tightly with the comforter and stay in the darkness forever. She was never a livid sleeper. She never trashed around in her sleep. She never called out. It's not like anyone would care if she did, though.

She hadn't gotten sleep for the past three nights when she caught herself starting at the half-moon, feeling sad that it looked so lonely in the sky. She also hated the city. She hated how she couldn't see the stars. She hated everything at that point. She hated every breath. She hated every tick on the clock on her mantel piece.

She didn't own a gun. She didn't have the energy to tie a knot. She did, however, have sleeping pills her doctor described for her insomnia (which she never took of course). He told her to only take one, no more, a night. Well, maybe she would take two tonight. Or three. Or four.

Her life was nothing but spinning in and out of darkness. One day she would feel bright, airy, like she was on top of the world! But then little by little she would deteriorate until only a sliver of that smile was present. It was a vicious cycle. Round and round.

The clock read ten twenty-six.

She would have ended it then. She poured herself a tall glass of the cheapest wine she found in the store and had a handful of pills in her hand, ready to devour them as if they were candy. She sat on the ledge beneath her window sill and looked at the pathetic half-moon. She noticed that it was waxing, so in a few nights it would cast its brilliant glow over the silent city. But then it would disappear again. Maybe it would get lost in the darkness this time and never return. She didn't know.

The woman with purple hair and gold-honey eyes stared at the pills in her hand. She drew them to her mouth, but her hand was stilled. She saw a brown moth dappled with black stripes flutter through the window and land on her wine glass. Everything was still for a moment, and that moment was all she needed.

The woman dumped the both the pills and the wine down the kitchen sink. After wiping her hands she grabbed her violin and exited her tiny flat. The clock read ten thirty-seven.

After wandering the city for a while she came upon a secluded spot that no person visited, day or night. It had a stone cherub cuddled up in ivy. It had its flute in hand, ready to play, but no one would hear its music. It was frozen. It was parched.

Finding the solitude she so desperately needed in this graveyard of stone, she placed the violin case on the edge of the fountain. After popping the clasps she drew her violin up to her chin and began playing.

She played for some time. She started with a low, mournful sound, but then when her confidence increased so did her mood. With a small smile to her face she played a livelier tune. The world around her ceased in its turning and she found clarity in the dark of the night. The moon shone down on her like a spot light, and her only audience was a tiny moth that landed on the cherub.

The moth lifted its wings and began to dance around the purple-haired woman, who couldn't help but dance herself. When she was finished she paused and lowered the bow slowly. She could feel something watching her with hungry eyes. She could always tell when something was watching. She can _always_ tell.

After her attempts to get whoever, whatever, was out there, she thought she saw something in the darkness. "I can see you standing there," she called out to the spectator.

When she received no response she packed her violin away. Like a cat she moved quickly and with a purpose. Tightening the strap across her chest she moved to investigate where she felt the penetrating gaze radiate from. As she approached the wall she felt a small lick of wind, almost as if a ghost had passed her.

Finding no one, she turned on her heel and made her way home.

The next night she didn't return. She was scared. What if it was a stalker, a murderer, a rapist? What if it were something else? For someone who very much wanted to die she was frightened of death. She welcomed sleep in any shape and form, but what if death wasn't like sleep? What if after she dies she is condemned to another reality? What if she regrets it?

She hated that question: "what if?"

She always asked herself "what if?" Always. She looked to the clock. It was midnight. She should be asleep like others. She felt like a zombie, to be honest. Doomed to suffer between the realms of the insufferable living and the empty.

She was hungry again. She was always hungry lately. Both her physical body and her soul hungered for something. Her stomach ached for food. She didn't know what her soul hungered for. The girl reached into a paper bag and pulled out a fig. She nibbled on it like a mouse.

As she ate she looked outside. The moon must get lonely sometimes. There weren't any stars for her to talk to or gossip with. She had no companions. But, maybe she did. She looked down on the earth often. Maybe she saw something, and something saw her. Like a single blade of grass. Perhaps the blade is lonely too. Perhaps it looks at the moon as she looks down on it.

Finally the woman with amber eyes felt tired. She threw the comforter off of her legs and padded into the bath room. She splashed cold water on her face. She hated sleep. What if she dreams again? What if her dreams hurt as much as the reality?

There she went again. What if.

She woke up at eight o'clock the next night. She had no idea when she had fallen asleep, but she slept the day away. _At least_, she thought, _I didn't have to deal with people…_

It's not like she hated the rest of the human race, she was just scared. Humanity was so unpredictable. She didn't like that. It scared her, not knowing. Not understanding. That's also why death was so inviting and yet so unreachable. It was unpredictable. You will never know what comes next or what lies ahead. You just don't know.

That night she found herself at the stone fountain again. She felt that she had a larger audience than just the cherub, but she ignored those feelings. She, oddly enough, wasn't frightened by the spectator she thought she saw. She didn't mind the gaze that she felt.

It became a routine.

She would visit the cherub and play for the phantom that watched. She liked to think that maybe it was a ghost trapped on earth, forced to live in a lonely world that constantly spun. But she was just being silly.

It was on the night of the full moon that she felt weighted, heavy. She was spinning and spinning with not stop and she was dizzy and she wanted it all to _stop_. She didn't care enough to play her violin. She sat down on the fountain. "I know you're there," she said in a quiet voice.

And as the phantom emerged from the darkness, the world stood still.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: In the Light of the Moon**

The air around the pair was like glass.

Adam was dressed in dark colors and his pale skin peaked out from the shadows that covered parts of his body. His shade-clad eyes stared at the woman. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips. That had become a habit of his. It was annoying.

"Hello," he said, his voice cut through the silence like a knife.

"Hello," she returned. After another moment of silence, she added: "who are you?"

"No one…" Adam replied, clearly regretting opening up the conversation. He was close to closing up their encounter by turning on his heel and running away, but before he could, the zombie with purple hair spoke up.

"What are you," she asked (that question made his stilled veins run cold), "a stalker or something?"

"No," he said, letting the breath that he was holding hostage go. "An admirer."

She chuckled darkly at that. "Sure, sure," she clearly didn't believe him. "Whatever you say."

"What is your name?"

"What?"

"What is your name," he repeated.

She paused and pursed her lips in thought. Should she…? Why not. "Lilith. And you are?"

"Like I said: an admirer."

"That's not fair," a frown marred her face. Adam couldn't help but notice that there was a light bruising under her amber eyes.

"You don't sleep much, do you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"You can say that…" Lilith said and she looked so tired all of a sudden. "Instead I play my violin. What are you doing up and about this late for the past week, anyway?"

"Your music distracted me," he said plainly, showing little to no emotion. He didn't mean to use the word 'distract'. It was such a harsh word. But no other form of speech could express what her music did to him.

"Sorry about that."

"No, no. It's…brilliant, actually." He stumbled over his words for a moment before reaching into his pocket. "Can you play this for me?"

He produced a folded sheet of paper. On it was the language of musical artists. He walked over to Lilith and handed it to her. She couldn't help but strain to hear his light footsteps. Whenever he moved, it was like he was a ghost. It must be nice to feel so light, so free. She always felt like she was dragging her feet and struggling to keep her arms from dangling uselessly from her body.

Lilith unfolded the paper gently and read it over before shoving it back to Adam. "I can't read musical notes…" she said, her amber eyes were downcast, but it wasn't apologetic. He noticed that she didn't like eye contact, nor did she like any contact at all. When grabbing and handing back the paper she held the edges with her fingertips ensuring that they will not touch accidently.

Adam took the paper back. _Interesting…_he thought. Adam produced a pen and wrote something on the folded paper and handed it back to her. "I'll see you tomorrow night," he said.

"What's this?" she asked, but received no reply. Adam had already turned and was walking away. When she looked at it closer, she noticed that there was an address on it. "Wait! I never learned your name!" she stood up and called out to him.

He paused. "Adam," he said, and continued walking. He disappeared into the night like a moth.

* * *

Everything was spinning again. Adam had put on an old record and the music consumed the room, filling up every corner. He donned headphones and a guitar was in his hands. He strummed random notes, trying to find a rhythm.

But everything he coaxed from the ancient instrument was a variation of Lilith's music. He couldn't get her out of his head. He remembered that once upon a time he was going to kill himself, and then a white-haired vixen showed up at his door. He mused that this was probably going to be a curse. He felt as though he would be condemned to live his life and suffer through such darkness, and just as he's about to end it, the moon shines through.

He looked to the clock. It was eight o'clock p.m. and he had instructed Lilith to meet him at nine. Adam had wanted to meet her in the secluded spot again, but with a stone cherub as his only witness he didn't trust himself to be alone with another zombie. The face of the girl flashed in his mind again. Empty eyes. A dying ember.

He wondered where she and her lover were now. Where they dancing and sleeping on clouds, feeling never ending agony as they burn? Or are they stuck in a purgatory-like state, existing with no feeling or want of feeling in a monotonous world?

The clock read eight o'seven. He was done waiting.

Adam donned his sunglasses and leather gloves. He locked up his sanctuary and began to walk the forlorn streets of the city. It was early in the night so many zombies condemned to self-destruction were out and about, going nowhere. Adam often wondered why they bother living if they were doomed to die anyway.

As he walked to his meeting with Lilith, Adam failed to notice that caught in a malicious spider web was a tiny moth, struggling to take its freedom as the silk threads around it only became tighter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Curiosity**

Lilith hated places like this. Places that were filled with people and noise and annoying music and wretched karaoke sung by talentless, drunk people out on a Friday evening hoping to take home a date that they will spend the night with, only to forget about them the next day.

She ordered a beer for herself and another for her "admirer". She thought he was very odd, watching her play her music over the past couple of nights. She shivered at the thought of his shade-clad eyes. It was spooky, to be honest, to not see someone's eyes.

It was ironic, really. She hated the feeling of eyes watching her, but not knowing what someone's eyes looked like petrified her. Maybe it was because she watched too many late night horror films as a child, or perhaps it was the alcohol making her giddy and jumpy and jarring her thoughts around. The thought of black, emotionless, steel-hard eyes made her nauseous. She hated places like this.

The kind waiter offered her a menu, but she declined politely. She tapped her foot to the music, waiting for Adam.

Lilith then wondered if this was a date. She laughed silently to herself. _No, no, why would anyone want to date you?_ She thought. _You think too highly of yourself. Look at yourself. No one wants you. You're nothing to the rest of the world. Just a single, pitiful, dying star in a sea of cosmos._

She laughed again. Sure she's kissed boys (and a girl) in her youth, though nothing was meant by it. Lilith only wanted to feel what is was like. It looked nice to kiss someone in the movies, but she wasn't surprised to find that real life was different. She felt nothing with those stupid, air-headed children. With Adam, however, she felt curious. Not like she was in love or anything, just curious.

Adam dressed like one of those big-shots in the movies with those romantic kissing sequences. He was oddly interested in her music, so perhaps he was going to offer her a gig or maybe ask for a signed record deal. If that were the case she'd say no. This was, to be honest, the first time someone would have "discovered" her (if that was what Adam's intentions were) and for a second she thought that maybe she was worth something. But only for a second.

She showed up thirty minutes early because she liked to be punctual. It's not every day she gets invited to an annoying, lively bar filled with people who go nowhere and run in circles, chasing their tails to find the little joys in life that are just beyond their grasps. It wasn't particularly exciting; it was just something new to her monotonous life.

But perhaps he wouldn't show. He was suave like many of the guys she met over the course of her life, the kind of guys that make a sport of breaking a lady's heart. But ha! Joke's on him because Lilith didn't have a heart! Instead she had a mangled piece of an organ sown together by flimsy string that was bound to unravel soon. But when that does happen she'll just take up the needle again and string a piece of weak thread through. Like she always does, like she always has, and like she always will.

Round and round and round again.

Half of Lilith's beer was gone and she felt a little sick to her stomach. She pushed it away and rested her head on the table. The clock read eight forty-five. Fifteen minutes to kill. Just dandy.

The one thing that Lilith hated more than being in a crowded place with stupid people was feeling alone in a crowded place with stupid people. It was funny, really. When she was alone she felt misplaced. Like she was lost, trying to find her way and perhaps there was hope that she could find her way. And when she was surrounded by people she was trapped with nowhere to run and no one to turn to for help. All she wants to do is curl up into a ball and cease to exist.

She felt someone slide into the booth she was sitting in.

* * *

Adam hated these kinds of places. He hated any place that was an epicenter for zombies. They were loud and obnoxious, the music was awful, and the karaoke he swore would one day blow out your ear drums. Of course there was the occasional gem that he didn't mind pausing to listen too, but then the angelic voice would be left behind in favor of foul breath and vulgar slurs.

Donning his shades he scoured the booths until he spotted a wave of purple hair sprawling down a frail back. He frowned at how prominent her shoulder blades were.

When he slid silently into the booth he noticed that there were two beers (one half empty) on the table. It was flattering, really, that she would purchase him a drink. Well, assuming that it was for him. He would be honestly disheartened if he found out that she was a drunk. He didn't want to waste his time on drunks.

Amber eyes peeked out from the security of her folded arms. She sat up slowly, lethargically, as though he had woken her from a day dream. "Hello," she said softly, trying to see past those mysterious shades.

"Hello," he replied. His hand, unconsciously, went to the black bead around his throat.

"So, what's this all about?" She brushed her hair to one shoulder, revealing a jutting collar bone. Adam noticed that he's never seen her without a tinted shroud. He wanted to take the shades off, but knew better not too. His eyes, much to his chagrin, were delicate. He wondered what shade of amber were her eyes. What shade of purple was her hair?

He leaned back into his side of the booth. He dropped the bead in favor of lacing his hands together. "You can't read musical notes," he stated.

Lilith said "yeah, I can't. That doesn't answer my question."

"But you play really well."

Lilith shrugged. "I learned by ear. I've never really had proper lessons. I just play what feels…" she paused. "What feels right, I suppose. That's for you, by the way." She nodded her head at the lonely beer sitting next to its half-empty companion.

"Thank you, but I don't drink beer." He stumbled on his words for a minute before leaning in delicately, like a panther eyeing his prey. The world had stilled around them and only the woman before him consumed his senses. He flashed back to that night where the serpent had tempted him. He tasted blood in his throat.

Adam jerked back. He knew, he _knew_ he shouldn't have come. But he was drawn by her music and wanted nothing more than to feel the stillness that he felt now.

"Are you alright?" Lilith asked.

"Yes, I am fine." Adam said, regaining his composure. He grew serious now. "You, Lilith, have a pure talent that I have seen only a few times in my life."

_In my long, long (too long) life,_ he thought.

"You're young and still have much to learn, however, and I would love to teach you, to help your talents grow."

"Why?" That question made him freeze in his place. Why indeed. He mused that perhaps it was because her music was refreshing, and Lilith herself made him, oh, what was the proper word?

Curious.

He felt curiousness once before, with his precious Eve. She was filled with such life and every moment spent with her was a moment learning new things and enjoying the life they had together.

Learning how sweet and bitter the taste of flesh, crimson, blood was, enjoying the feast and the feel of a weakening body in his hands slowly withering like a rose petal-

_NO!_

Adam realized he was staring at Lilith and she was peeking through a veil of purple hair. If he squinted he noticed that her roots had a silver sheen to them.

"Because music like yours should not be wasted," he finally said.

Meanwhile, out in the alleyway the moth was encased in soft silk. A hungry spider was sitting at the edge of the web, admiring her prize and biding her time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: White Rabbit**

Eve had loved Adam for who and what he was over the past few centuries and found herself still loving him and missing his touch, his words, his music, his admiration.

Adam was an ocean away, she had to remind herself. She was no longer his and he no longer hers and whatever had kept them together was placed in an iron casket and buried somewhere deep. She left her necklace after that night and had hoped to leave those memories behind with it, but they clung to her like a disease without a medicine or cure.

She felt as though she was dangling by a single thread. While she was frozen in place the world around her was turning and turning and spinning and going on without her. When Adam had pushed her away she thought that the world would stop and cease in its race and its turning but found that it didn't and she was oddly disappointed and rather envious.

She recalled that not too long ago she had saved her beloved from death by his own hand and had helped him find a reason to live in a lifeless abyss that they existed in, but now she might need someone (Adam), anyone (Adam), to save her from her own hand.

Even though her neck was no longer laden by a simple black bead Eve sometimes felt its presence. Like a ghost the lack of the necklace would send shivers down her spine and make her chilled veins even colder when she would reach up to touch it but her fingers are met with a thin collar bone and thinner flesh.

Eve found herself staring at people when they passed her on the street or when she catches the scent of a hunt, no blood, no the sound of a beating heart, no, no that's not right. That wasn't right. She stares when she catches the scent of what?

She mused to herself as she walked down a forlorn street in England. She thought of the times she and Adam had together. Sure, at first she was bitter and filled with wrath at his, what would you call it? Betrayal? She didn't know. But those feelings were trampled by the fondness she felt for him and although she didn't understand why he hated her for what they did. It's not like they had choice. Did they?

No. No they never had choice. It was either them or us she liked to say to herself as justification for murder, for survival.

The street this night was surrounded by heavy fog and the light from the street lamp casted eerie shadows across the walk way and all around. The thick cloud resembled spirits who were dancing, turning, going nowhere and having come from nowhere. Just like zombies. They had no purpose. They were there. And that's all they did. Exist with no reason to.

But Eve had found a reason for their reasonless existence. One reason was to give Adam a purpose, give him a chance to live in his death. They gave life to the dead. They gave life to her.

Once she had a taste of the bitter-sweet, thick, metallic wine coursing through the veins of the zombies she found that she could barely control her actions. She found that the preserved stuff was unpalatable.

Once upon a time she was like a rabbit.

The rabbit leapt happily through the grass and darted off into the undergrowth and enjoyed the moonlight on its white fur. The little rabbit was filled from attentive ears to bushy tail with gaiety and pure elation.

Food was often left out for the rabbit and it ate its fill when it needed. With its tummy full and warm it would dart off into the forest until it felt that it needed to feed.

But then one day, no food was left out for it.

The rabbit didn't know what to do! It tried to ignore the slow decomposition of its frail body and tried to out run the hunger, and in a state of fatigue the rabbit collapsed in midair and crashed hard into the ground. It looked up and saw nothing but looming darkness in the sky. But when it turned around, the rabbit's eyes had lightened.

The rabbit had come upon a simple tree with delicate limbs that dipped to the earth as well as reach for the heaven that was surly hiding behind the black curtain. On the tree's lowest branches hung the sweetest of smelling fruit, the plumpest of morsels. The rabbit was famished and approached the tree. But it couldn't eat the fruit, could it? The rabbit heard the tree singing a soft lullaby to her children that clung to her by a thing stem.

The rabbit thought that it would be best to starve than take away the children of the tree. The rabbit turned, and as it started to walk away it heard a harsh, slithering, conniving, deceiving voice. The rabbit spun around and saw a serpent with red eyes beckoning, calling, imploring it to come closer to the tree.

In a gentile, threatening, persuasive, low, rumbly voice the serpent encouraged the rabbit to take a bit of one of the fruits. When the rabbit refused the serpent entwined itself into the tree, growing bigger and more threatening. Yellow fangs were smiling at the rabbit. The serpent argued that the tree had enough fruit, didn't she? If one were to go missing the tree wouldn't notice, the fruit was one of many! And even if its companions were to notice that it had disappeared, they wouldn't bother to call out for it, right?

In the end the fruit all die and fall to the dry earth and the mother-tree dies with them and there is no point to them living is there?

No, no, no, they are destined to die like any other fruit has done and will do! And with their deaths the tree will grow more fruit and suffer death with them until they are reborn yet again with no end to their pointless, reasonless existences.

And the rabbit, being driven to madness by hunger, could do nothing but take the tempting words of the serpent to heart. The rabbit picked its head up and stared at the fruit.

As soon as the rabbits teeth grazed the soft, warm, flesh of the fruit, the serpent lunged at the rabbit and constricted around it, suffocating it, making it swallow the tiny morsel it devoured until the rabbit wanted nothing but more of that delicious, sinful taste that filled it with a thirst that could not and will not ever be quenched by anything else.

And that was when the rabbit had died and the serpent remained in its place.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Spectrophobia**

"Wasted?" Lilith asked, clearly confused.

Adam nodded. "Music, any form of art really, doesn't exist, doesn't have a purpose unless it has an audience to acknowledge it."

Lilith propped her frail elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. "You're not wrong, but you're also not right," she said. "Does not the creator of the music acknowledge that it exists? I know my music exists and I am perfectly content to think that no one else may ever hear it. And if no one does, it still serves its purpose."

"But I've heard it," Adam said in a quiet voice.

Lilith gave a small, bashful smile at his words and Adam could have sworn that his stilled heart skipped back to life at that warm gesture. He was oddly pleased to think that he's caused that smile to bloom on her face and discovered that he would like to do that some more.

"Yeah, you have," Lilith murmured as her amber eyes darted to her half-empty beer.

A waiter came by again and offered the pair a menu. Lilith suspected that the kind man probably thought that she and Adam were on a date. She frowned at that. _That's unlikely. Look at him and look at me. But what if we were?_

Again, there she goes with "what if?" She absolutely hated those words.

Lilith placed money on the table to pay for the beers and stood up. "I'm going for a walk," she said suddenly. Adam got up and followed her outside of the noisy establishment.

He wondered if she was alright and watched her intently. He noticed that she brought her violin with her and had slung it over her shoulder, which was very, very thin. Adam took notice that she had decided to leave when it had gotten particularly loud and filled with the smell of food.

The waiter was walking by their table nonstop; carrying food that Adam supposed would have smelt pretty good if he still gained nourishment from such things. When the man had placed a menu on the table she had paused for a moment and then stood up. What stupid zombie, walking in circles going around and around.

Adam wanted to grab her wrist, to slow her down. She walked with such awkwardness and speed he thought that she was going to stumble.

"Hey, I, uh," Lilith stopped suddenly and turned around to face Adam. They were alone on the street. "I have to get home." Adam didn't know it then but it was only ten o'nine pm.

They agreed to meet up at the stone cherub the next night to talk some more.

Lilith didn't want to go home and she hated herself for being a coward, for being weak. She wanted to stay and talk some more with Adam, really she did, but that awful place and the smell of food made her head spin and she scratched at her wrists in a nervous habit.

Lilith never liked crowded places.

* * *

Eve always loved crowded places, even if she had to enjoy them from afar.

There was something about the spinning and the turning in the environment that accompanied the sway of the zombies when the music was particularly loud and inviting. She particularly found herself enjoying the energy that came off of two lovers in a moment of passion, moving in and out of their little world consumed with nothing else but their significant other. Some of them tried so hard (and failed) to hide it and attempted to regain their control while others didn't give a damn. There was nothing else but the being before them and the world around them was nothing.

Just like those two lovers Eve had stumbled upon that last night with Adam. Just two fruits dangling from a low reaching branch.

Eve found it hard to glance into a mirror nowadays. It felt odd. It was almost like seeing a friend (perhaps her sister, Ava) from long ago and trying hard to remember what they were like so that the trial of getting to know them all over again could be skipped. But then she would remember that the woman was Eve. Simple Eve, dangling by a single thread while the world around her spun around and around. She often saw a crack in the mirror. Just a tiny crack.

Now she stood behind a local pub. She always found herself waiting at this particular spot. Waiting for what? She didn't know. She was just waiting.

And while she waited she thought of the scratch in her throat she felt quite often lately. It was incessant! An itch you could never scratch even if you lobbed the offending origin of the itch off! It never went away.

She paused and cocked her head. Her sunglasses framed her pretty, pale face and her eyes darted to see what had happened.

The alley-way door to the pub had opened up and a woman with caramel skin and vibrant red hair stumbled into the shadows of the streets of the city. She nearly fell over in her exaggerated heels and pulled down her party dress when a whisper of cool air tickled her legs. She wrapped a sheer shawl around her shoulders and placed her hand on the wall.

Eve recoiled when the woman bent over and vomited a decent portion of her meal. When she had finished the woman fumbled for her cell phone. She dropped it and fell over while trying to retrieve it. How clumsy.

Eve found herself drawn to this woman, this intoxicated zombie. A pink tongue ran over parched lips as she approached the cursing figure. Eve couldn't believe that such a beautifully shaped mouth could spout such vulgar language.

Before she grabbed the woman, Eve wondered if she should flee, dart away into the night and act as though she was never there. But then her stomach churned and the sound of the woman's pounding heart and racing veins were beckoning to her. The sound was a voice whispering in her ear and sitting atop her shoulder. She slithered closer. And closer. And closer.

_What is just one fruit of many?_ She thought.


	10. Chapter 10

_**I want to apologize for my absence and the long delay in my updating. My computer has caught a virus and I have been having some difficulty. I want to thank **__**EVERYONE OF YOU AMAZING PEOPLE**__** for taking the time to read my story. Thank you so much (x 1000)!**_

_**Additionally, I am a dork and have no life outside of fiction and various fandoms, so naturally I have thought up a shipping name for Lilith and Adam. It is called…**_

_**Liliam!(lil-ee-am)**_

_**Anyway, I don't want to waste more of your time, so here is the next chapter.  
And I am sorry for how short it is, but chapter 11 should be out soon :)**_

**Chapter 10: Iron Locks**

He could taste the crimson wine slither down his parched throat. He felt his tongue and his teeth violently graze soft, pale flesh and a strangled scream sent tremors down his spine and his hands felt the weakening form of a zombie.

He looked down, expecting to see angry eyes. Pleading eyes. Like before. But all he saw was the color of amber losing its light. He saw purple hair matted with blood. He saw a violin laying in pieces on the ground. He didn't see hatred or agony in those amber eyes. He saw the moon fading away, emitting a deep, angry red light from its pores. He saw it disappearing into blackness and never returning, leaving only a jagged blood stain in the inky sky. He saw a dead blade of grass. He tasted blood. He always tasted blood.

But this time it was blood from someone with amber eyes, not pleading eyes. Not angry eyes. Amber eyes that he's never seen without a dark-tinted veil. And now that they were dead (when did that happen?) amber eyes, he will never know how bright they truly shown. He'll never hear the music speak with feelings that words cannot even begin to relay.

He saw a black serpent coiling, constricting, wrapping around precious Lilith who had locked eyes with him. _How could you?_ She rasped.

Adam heard the faint ticking of a clock, ticking, ticking, ticking, ticking, its tiny arms going round and round and round…

* * *

Adam's dark eyes fluttered open. He got lost in his thoughts again.

His mind was like a palace, almost. Like a palace with twists and turns and thick stone walls that hugged the corners of doors that were constantly appearing and disappearing with no particular pattern. He knew he shouldn't have opened the door with an iron lock. The door that unleashed his animalistic desire. He never even knew such a door existed until that night when he and Eve had parted ways. He never knew that there was an iron lock waiting to be broken.

Adam felt an echo in the cavern of his chest. He missed his dearest Eve, and he hated that he missed her. He shouldn't miss her, he _couldn't_ miss her, but he did nonetheless. And he hated himself for it.

It was two minutes past midnight. Lilith hadn't shown up. Perhaps she was running late.

He hoped she was running late. The thought of her mangled body in his hands sent shivers down his spine. He couldn't kill again. He didn't want to, especially not to someone like gentile Lilith.

He scoffed at himself. _You barely know this woman…_

That was true. But he wanted to know her, and yet he wanted nothing to do with her. Adam hadn't spent this much time with a zombie in what felt like decades. What saddened him greatly, however, was the fact that one day she'll die and he'll be left alone. Again.

Round and round.

And if she were to die by his vicious, lust-filled, tepid maw he knew that he'd be just like that vile serpent he once loved. Only then would he return to the white-haired woman and return to her a part of his soul.

He wouldn't let that happen, though. Adam would never return to Eve.

Adam should stay away from Lilith (she should stay away from him) but he didn't want too. The ticks on the clock weren't so loud when he thought of her but the iron lock shook with rage on the wooden door. The world stopped spinning for a moment and yet she would leave him and be buried in the ground one day.

When a moth is drawn to flame it enjoys the warmth until the harsh claws of the flame catch's the moth's delicate wings and consumes it until nothing but ash is in its place. The fire feeds on the lust of the moth because the moth knows better. The moth _knows_ it should stay away from such a vile thing no matter how tempting. But the moth doesn't care because one way or another it will die, so why not die indulging in the way that it desires?

The clock read a quarter past midnight. And there was no sign of Lilith.

* * *

A moth was struggling for its freedom from its gentile, silk restraints. A spider walked slowly, lethargically, to the struggling creature and watched it carefully with eight beady eyes. She tasted the bitter venom on her jaw, ready to put her prey to sleep. But she waited. She always waited. She waited because the moth looked so precious in its struggle. It looked so alive. It looked so afraid.

Suddenly, a harsh flash of light blinded the spider for a moment. She curled within herself and hid away from the offending beam and the moth's wings flapped harder. A cool chuckle darted around the insects.

A lanky figure with a Polaroid camera in hand put the antique down from her face. The white, waxy paper soon popped out and the figure admired her work. The silver spider web almost matched the black ink that danced across her right hand and wrist.

She ran her long fingers through her jet-black hair that had highlights of steel blue. Her skin was almost like a luminescent yellow in the light of the street lamp. The Polaroid hung from a leather strap around her neck. With her hands free she drew up her unfinished cigarette and blew out a stream of smoke. She marveled at the tiny flame burning at the nicotine and paper.

The figure then looked at the tiny moth. It looked so fearful. She smiled and ran a dry tongue across her sharp teeth. She captured the moment with her camera again. And again. And again. And again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Iron Keys**

As soon as she had made an arrangement with Adam, Lilith had hurried home. She felt sick. She always felt sick.

Almost as soon as she entered the door to her apartment she had darted for the bathroom, heaving up what was in her stomach (which was nothing but a couple of sips of beer). Only bitter tasting breath and foul tasting acid found its way up her throat and out of her body.

Lilith had gasped and managed to get her breathing under control. In mere minutes she collapsed onto the couch and fumbled for the remote to the CD player in the corner of the room. She turned on the music and fell asleep.

She awoke feeling a tightening in her stomach. She glanced at the clock. It was ten in the morning. Lilith had a headache. Her sides hurt. Her limbs were trembling. She was shaking all over. She was cold.

The disk in her CD player had run out of music to play earlier in the morning so Lilith was greeted with nothing but deafening silence.

She wanted to go back to sleep, but her aching body wouldn't let her. She stumbled to her feet and managed to knock her leg into the coffee table. She cursed and knew that a bruise would eventually form. She rolled up her dark jeans and noted all of the black and blue and yellowing marks that dappled her pale leg.

_You're too clumsy…_she thought to herself as she stood up. She went to her kitchen and turned on the tap water, watching it pour out in a weak stream. The water had a faint, metallic taste.

She washed her wrists with the warm water and as she was drying off she noticed a teeny, tiny spider had taken residence in the tucked away corner of her cabinet. She blew on it gently and it retracted within itself, curling up into a little ball. Lilith thought that it must be afraid.

She moved back to her living room. She sat on the floor and entangled the tips of her fingers in the carpet. She looked up to the ceiling and silently counted the cracks. _One…two…three…four…_

Lilith felt tired. And heavy. And weighted. She found that it took more effort than usual to sit herself up. She felt almost brain-dead from the monotonous trail that her train of thought was taking. _Ten…eleven…twelve…_

After another minute she finished her counting. _Eighteen_.

Lilith stood up and cast her eyes down from the ceiling. She mulled over the thought that one day the ceiling was going to collapse on top of her and there was the possibility of her dying. She shuddered at the thought, but then gave a small smile that said "oh well". It's not like anyone would care if she were to die.

Well, perhaps her landlord would miss his monthly profit. And the lonely stone cherub might miss her company. Would Adam miss her? Why would he?

She thought of death often. What would he be like? Would he take her hand gently and lead her away from her weighted corpse and dance with her until morning with a soft chorus of violins playing through the night? Would he roughly grab her arm and burn a cross onto her forehead with a hot iron for sinning or bind her arms with iron chains and leave her in a world of darkness, a world of monotony, a world where there are cracks in a ceiling that will inevitably collapse?

If it does collapse, will she see the stars?

Lilith didn't know and didn't want to know. All she wanted was to see Adam again. And some sleep. She wanted to sleep for a while. But she found that she couldn't.

* * *

The pharmacy was never a kind place, but that never means that it wasn't interesting.

It was filled with people of different origins, different people hanging low on the different branches of humanity's tree.

You had screaming children and worn out mothers who go on with their lives even though there is nothing for them at the end of the road. But those women know that there is nothing at the end of the road and still they insist that there is. Perhaps for their children, but not for them. Soon enough they'll die and then their children will die and their grandchildren will die.

Everyone dies at some point. Some die before they even leave the kingdom within their mother where they are kings and queens and are always warm and embraced by the comforting blackness. Some die as soon as they are stolen by a thief from their sanctuary and placed into a cold world with noises and lights and discomfort. Their little hearts beat once, twice, and then cease.

It could be interpreted as a simple mercy placed on the babe or as a punishment for the mother. And yet, the mother is undeserving of this punishment. And it is then that she takes her own life because someone needs to look after the babe in death, and being punished for a crime that she had no idea she was committing was just ridicules anyway.

It's not like she had asked to be born.

Of course it was a cyclical thing that happens in every minute of every day. Round and round and round again.

And that's why Lilith never wanted to have children. Most of the time they turn out like their mothers and Lilith wasn't too friendly with the idea of an innocent little girl who never asked for her life to live in a world that never stopped turning.

Lilith walked up to the counter and asked the lady for her prescription refill. She adjusted the violin case that adorned her right shoulder and tapped her fingers impatiently.

One of the benefits of being human was the comfort of sleep. She thought that it was almost like being in her mother's womb again. Curled up, safe and warm. And then wakefulness was the thief.

A problem that Lilith had lately was the inability to fall asleep. Sure she'd be tired and want to close her eyes. She could close her eyes all she wanted, no problem. It was the constant spinning of her thoughts that kept her alert.

So she takes a little pill to help her escape into a kingdom that is blissfully black, not dark, and is filled with the warmth of painted stone walls and locked doors that were just begging to be opened an explored. Often times she didn't have a key to the locks, but Lilith found that if she searched hard enough, one would fall into the palm of her hand.

* * *

Lilith deposited her violin on the couch and looked at the clock. It was one o'clock in the afternoon. She groaned internally and looked at the orange pill bottle in her hand. She wanted to desperately go back to sleep. If she could, she would sleep forever.

Well, no. Not forever. She'd want to wake up eventually. When she travelled too deep into her little kingdom she found that she lost control. Normally if she wanted the walls to turn green, they'd turn green.

If she wanted to see the thousands of tiny stars dotting the sky, the ceiling would disappear and she'd see the inky canvas.

But without that control the walls turned to the darkest iron she's ever seen. They'd start to melt and consume the artwork and mirrors and lanterns that were hung on them.

The ceiling would crack and fall in on her and she found that she couldn't breathe, couldn't run, couldn't scream for help and she knew that screaming wouldn't make a difference because no one would hear and even if they did hear no one would care and then she'd be falling down, down, down, into a dark abyss where she'd see death calling to her, beckoning to her, asking her to dance with iron chains in his hands and a locked doorway behind him.

Spinning, churning, turning, twisting. Never stopping. Never ending. And she can't escape.

But, with the tiny pill she only visited her kingdom for a moment or two before she is stuck in a cool, monotonous state of purgatory where there aren't any ceilings with cracks and there aren't any iron locks to be picked.

Lilith popped one in her mouth and splayed out on her couch. When five minutes had passed she took another. After three minutes she took a third pill. After another two minutes she reached for another, but was elated to see the edges of her vision blur and the cracks on the ceiling disappear.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: Timore**

The world was spinning again.

It was half past midnight. No sign of Lilith. Even though the night air was still and thick Adam couldn't help but feel like he was caught in a vicious spiral going round and round and round.

His ears itched. They ached to hear Lilith's voice. No. _No, not her voice_ Adam told himself. He tried hard to convince himself that he wanted to hear her violin. Just her violin. Adam was always good at lying. Perhaps he could trick himself into believing that all he wanted was to hear her music. Not her voice.

He adjusted the glasses on his face. He heard light footsteps from across the forlorn street. He looked up hopefully at the approaching figure. A deep frown marred his face when he realized that it was not his precious Lilith. It was a skinny woman with large sunglasses adorning her face and a Polaroid camera hanging from her neck. She had black and steel blue hair. She smelt faintly of that sweet, sweet, metallic smell.

The woman, who was on the opposite side of the street from Adam, sauntered along the sidewalk and paid him no mind. She paused for a moment and took a picture of the lonely street. When the photo slipped out of the camera she noticed that it was difficult to see anything. Without her sharp eyes the picture would looked like an endless abyss of blackness. She smiled and continued on her way.

Adam leaned up against the wall and looked at the stone cherub. The ivy still slithered around its tiny arms and legs and its lips were still parched. It was twelve forty.

Adam felt his skin crawl. He had that feeling again. His jaw ached. His eyes burned a little. The world was spinning. And turning. And flipping. He felt his limbs tremble. His tongue ran along his lips. His hand went to caress the beads that sat heavily on his collar. He thought of Lilith.

Adam may have been a good liar, but he was not gullible.

* * *

Eve felt as though the world around her was moving along, spiraling on and on while she sat in place, dangling from a piece of thin thread over a bottomless abyss. She might as well have been hanging from her throat.

All she wanted was a moment in time where the world would stop spinning so that she could catch up to it, but her wishes were never granted. Besides, who was there to answer her prayers and her pleas? Nothing but dust and shadows, she supposed.

Presently she was in a bathroom. It was familiar. It was her bathroom. She looked at the mirror. She saw black, soulless eyes. She saw a mouth (a maw) stained with blood. She saw a serpent smiling back at her, and she was the only one in the tiny room. She touched her cheek. She felt whole again, but something was still missing. But she wasn't whole, no. The thirst, the hunger, was tamed for now.

Eve liked to believe that if she looked hard enough, she could still see a white rabbit darting happily along a moonlit meadow.

Then she entertained the idea that the moon must've been lonely way up there in the sky. Well, she would have if she saw a moon in that meadow. There weren't even stars in the endless canopy above. It was empty. It was forlorn.

Her fist came into contact with the delicate mirror and from it erupted a jagged crack that distorted her face, split it two.

Perhaps Adam was right, she thought. She looked in the mirror again. Some red had woven itself into her snow white hair. Then she licked her lips and she tasted the thing that keeps her whole, the thing that allows her to spin with the rest of the world, going round and round. No, no. Adam was _wrong_. He was _wrong _and _she _was _not _at fault. Why couldn't he accept that this is who they are and what they needed, _deserved_, to take.

Humanity was such a waste! Eve was doing them a favor, showing them a simple mercy. They die anyway and if one was to die by her hands, well, what was one fruit of many? One day the tree will fall and collapse and all the fruit will die and no more will be born. She might as well consume the fruit while it was still there, and even then she was being moderate. One fruit of many was of no significance. Eve told herself that she was not a monster.

Eve was an awful liar and she was very gullible.

* * *

It was when the sun started to stir out of his slumber that Lilith was wakened from a nightmare.

She was heavy yet she was floating. She was consumed by water but Lilith found that she could (barely) breathe. She was drifting along with a gentile wave. Pockets of air erupted from her gaping mouth and danced up and up, disappearing into the all-consuming darkness.

Her purple hair was a purple cloud around her head. She looked down and saw that she was wearing a black dress that clung close to her body and went well past her feet. Lilith's amber eyes glanced down and noticed that there was a light below her. It was very faint but it was inviting.

She swum down and found a tiny ball of light, no bigger than her fingertip, floating up to her. Lilith cupped her hands and the light landed in her palms and grew tenfold so that it fit perfectly in her palm. She examined the light and was struck in awe.

The spell, however, was broken when she heard a snarl from behind her. She clutched the ball of light protectively to her chest. She wanted to call out "who's there", but she couldn't find her voice.

The light wiggled and slipped out of her grasp and flew off. Although it was fleeting, the ball of light illuminated the shape of a hungry, red-eyed, yellow-toothed snake. Lilith's silent scream sent another stream of bubbles into the abyss and she tried to frantically swim away. She glanced behind her to see the serpent in swift pursuit.

The world was spinning again.

Currents and waves were dancing around her and tossing her left and throwing her right. She was caught in a free fall and the serpent was in front of her, behind her.

Lilith saw something in the distance. It looked like a stone fountain. She thought that she saw a figure standing near it, waiting. Watching. But she couldn't see his eyes. Was that Adam?

Lilith felt her heart sink. She was confused, she knew she had to do something, be somewhere. She was lost, she wasn't supposed to be here, but then again, where was here? She tried to call out, but again her voice was carried away by delicate bubbles.

She saw the figure, she saw Adam, walking away. He turned his back and Lilith tried to run after him, but was stopped when the vial serpent slithered past Adam and stared at her with crimson eyes alight with hate and hunger. It lunged for her and Lilith silently screamed.

She opened her eyes when she heard a violent crack. She looked up and there was a jagged scrape that looked like it was on a mirror. The serpent lunged again and just before its maw could latch onto her pale flesh, the serpent shattered as though it were glass.

Lilith saw the shards float up and away. She grabbed one and noticed that it was a mirror. She saw herself looking back and when she turned it she saw Adam in the reflection.

She dropped the shard and spun around, only to be greeted by a stone cherub and a fountain. She stepped up onto the ledge of the fountain and ran her hand over the cherub's cracking face.

That wasn't right. The cherub didn't have any cracks in its face. This was wrong. Where was she? Why was the darkness around her spinning and turning? Where was the moon?

Lilith couldn't breathe. The magnificent stone fountain in her hands crumbled like it was glass and disappeared below her. She couldn't breathe. She tried to swim up, where was the light, she _couldn't breathe_. Her lungs were constricting, there was no moon there were no cracks around her, the waves and air pockets that were taunting her were shattering like glass.

The vast ocean that she was trapped in was concentrated with sharp pieces of mirror that cut at her and left no marks. She was drowning. She was close to giving up, close to letting the world consume her.

And that was when she felt someone pull her out of the dark water and into the moonlight.


End file.
